Today we had our final run-through—I’d call it a dress rehearsal but we didn’t actually get all dolled up for it. I just asked everyone to wear the shoes they would have on tomorrow, since the transition from rubber soles to concert footwear has occasionally been known to result in some unwanted slips and slides.
The day began with that long-awaited practice hour—60 precious minutes to repair all the potholes that have cropped up in my songs during the week. With the clock ticking, I had to exercise surgical precision. The spot in “A Child Is Born” where I always play a wrong harmony (solved in one minute with a fabulous chord progression I dreamed up, unfortunately not retained during the run) (I’ll get it tomorrow); the third page of the Busoni song, which is not exactly difficult but needs to be massaged into place every day, not just once a week (it was going fine later during the run until Reed came in two beats early during a tricky measure, and in my rush to find him Humpty-Dumpty fell off the wall); the brilliant but very unpianstic song from Jason Robert Brown’s “The Last Five Years” with the off-kilter bass line I always screw up (nailed it during the rehearsal); the spot I always fake in the newly-transposed Grieg song (did it correctly in two out of the three verses).
It’s easy for me to worry about little mistakes for two reasons. First, because I sit very far upstage and don’t have a visceral sense of my own sound blending with the singing or getting into the hall. I am confident that it is, in fact, wrapping itself gorgeously around the vocal line, and Bénédicte told me that the balances were excellent. But I feel a bit alone, nestled in the corner of the Caramoor stage, so I can get a little introverted, obsessed with the minutiae while losing contact with the bigger picture. And secondly, I am onstage with two sensational pianists, each of us with our individual approach to the keyboard. My mantra for tomorrow: “you do you.”
The actual run-through went quite well; all four singers were on top of their game, and the program works like a charm. When we were first discussing the show, I had my trepidations: Beginner’s Luck was originally a two-hander, built 15 years ago around the specific talents of tenor Paul Appleby and mezzo-soprano Sasha Cooke, then at the very beginning of their careers.
Bénédicte and I renovated the playlist for a cast of four—and not just any four, but a quartet of artists with strong artistic personalities. I needn’t have worried: Joyce offers the double delights of an opulent sound and the most deliciously refined phrasing in her Fauré and Grieg songs, while Kate goes to the head of the class with her red-blooded, vivid Sondheim and Jason Robert Brown. In the updating process I added two tenor-baritone duets NYFOS commissioned, and they seem richer and more powerful than ever: “We Two Boys” by Jeffrey Stock and “I’m so much more me,” by Robert Beaser. In an age when we are seeing so much toxic masculinity, so much emphasis on domination, so much worship of money, and so much sneering cruelty, these two pieces strike a decisive blow for civility, for sensitivity, for joy, and for the wise exercise of strength. When they sang the Beaser duet today, Jamal and Reed seemed to have left the earth, taking us all with them and reducing Béné and me to tears.
Come hear Beginner’s Luck—Sunday at Caramoor, 3 PM; Merkin Hall (67th Street between Broadway and Amsterdam) on Thursday, 8 PM. Tickets at NYFOS.org and Caramoor.org.
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